


Tanaka's Power

by maychorian



Series: Tanaka Week [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, POV Outsider, he's gonna be a good ace, tanaka is the next ace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:19:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3496499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maychorian/pseuds/maychorian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three strangers wonder if Karasuno is going to survive without that big ace, Azumane-kun. The monk-cut kid can't really be ace material, can he?</p><p>Tanaka Week, Day Five and Six.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tanaka's Power

"Hey, it's Karasuno. Didn't they go to nationals last year?"

The three spectators stepped closer to the edge of the stands to look down at the match currently being played on the floor below. The one with sleepy eyes, Nakano, nodded slowly. "Yes, they did. The fallen crows are flightless no more."

The tallest man, Yoshida, shaded his eyes and squinted over the gym. "D'you think they'll go again this year?"

Inoue, the third one, bristled instinctively. He was here to watch his son go to nationals, not some school he'd never even heard of. Sure, his kid was a first-year and this was the first time Inoue had ever been to a volleyball tournament, tugged along by his son's excitement for his brand-new passion. But that didn't mean he couldn't have an opinion. "Who says this year will be like last year? Their team is different, just like everyone else's. The third-years resigned, new first-years haven't caught up. It's anyone's match to win."

Nakano gave him an unimpressed look. He'd been following high school volleyball for years, and this fact was so obvious that it didn't merit mentioning. 

Yoshida nodded cheerfully, though. "That's true. The Karasuno third-years were amazing last season. I watched part of one of their matches, and their ace, Azumane... Wow, he was a big fella. When he jumped and spiked from the back row, so high you could swear he was flying... It gave me goosebumps."

Inoue squinted at him in displeasure, but Nakano nodded solemnly. He leaned over the railing, elbows loose on the metal, his chin tucked into one hand. "The ace can make an enormous difference on a high school team. Just one strong, amazing player can elevate everyone else."

"Well, who's the ace this year?" Inoue asked. "There's no way he can live up to something like that."

Yoshida shrugged. "Dunno." He stared down at the teams below as if he could pick out the ace just by looking, his eyes wide and his face eager. "I bet Nakano can figure it out, though."

Nakano gave him a side-eye, then looked back to the match below. "It's probably one of the smaller numbers, a third-year with plenty of experience." His practiced eye swept over the players in orange and black, swift and appraising. "Ah." He pointed, lifting his hand only a lazy few centimeters. "It's that one."

Yoshida shaded his eyes with his hand and bent over to peer along the line of his finger. "The boy with the monk cut? Really?"

Inoue spotted the player they were talking about and wrinkled his nose. "That one?" 

Nakano had to be kidding. Monk-cut didn't look like anything. He was average in every way—average height, average build, average looks. The only thing that stood out about him was how loud he was. At the moment, in between serves, he was spreading his arms and shouting encouragement to his teammates. When he finished, he put his hands on his hips, threw his head back, and laughed wildly and raucously at the ceiling. He looked like a clown, not like an ace.

"Watch," Nakano said, laconic and self-assured. Yoshida leaned over the railing in avid attention, and Inoue took a reluctant step closer, as well. He had to see this for himself.

There was a shout on the court as the opposing team prepared to serve the ball. The atmosphere changed instantly as every player dropped into a loose crouch, stance spread and ready for anything that came. Monk-cut changed, too—and the change was astonishing. Even Inoue could see the intensity that poured over him, the easy laughter hidden away as if it had never been.

The volley that followed was almost too quick to take in, dizzying the novice Inoue as he tried to understand what was going on. The server jumped and _slammed_ the ball to Karasuno's side of the net, and a short teen with a different colored shirt than the rest leaped forward to meet it. A tall boy with black hair shouted as the ball met his fingers, tossing it lightly through the air, almost without looking to see where it would go. Another shorty with orange hair leaped and swung at the ball...

But it wasn't there. Monk-cut had it. Two opposing players were jumping to block, hands raised like a wrought-iron fence. They were in exactly the right position, and they held the right form with grim determination. The wall seemed impregnable, impossible to surpass.

It didn't matter. Monk-cut struck the ball like a battering ram. It broke through the block, pushing aside the arms that tried to stop it, and deflected off the hands of the player who leaped to receive it. The ball continued, off the court, and hit a wall with a resounding bang.

Inoue's mouth dropped open.

Yoshida laughed in delight. "Uwaah, Nakano, you can always pick 'em! That was a beauty."

Nakano nodded, expressionless. His point was made. Monk-cut spread his arms again, laughing, and accepted the enthusiastic back-slaps and head rubs of his teammates. 

"The other team will be more wary of him on the next volley," Nakano said. "And that will open opportunities for other spikers on his team to strike, as well. He might not be as big and overpowering as that Azumane-kun, but he'll do."

Yoshida grinned, eyes wrinkling up as he watched the teams below reset for the next volley. "Yeah, he'll do. The Karasuno team is in good hands."

Inoue said nothing. 

Up until this moment, Inoue hadn't understood his son's sudden infatuation with this sport. Though he supported his child and always would, nothing about volleyball excited him. It lacked the strategy of baseball, the physicality of football, the beauty of martial arts. Or so he had thought. 

But now he had seen a young man fly, and volleyball would never look the same to him again. His fist clenched around the program he'd been holding in his hand. Yeah, he understood it now.

It was a beautiful sport.


End file.
